“What the hell happened to them?” he asked.
He turned to Taylor for answers. The Major looked less than eager to explain. Dupont turned back to the MPs.
“Strip him of his weapons and armour, and take him away!”
He snapped back around and glared at the marines who looked on at him with a look of utter disgust and pointed at Silva.
“Sergeant, get these troops formed up!”
Parker stepped up to join them and wanted nothing more than to strike the General across the face. But she looked to Taylor and realised it was not the time. They had gotten themselves in more than enough trouble already. A medical crew rushed past the MPs to assist the rescued troops and take away the two dead and one wounded. Taylor watched as they were spirited away while he stripped off his equipment before his detainers.
The Reitech suit crashed to the ground as Taylor stepped from it and dropped his rifle. There was no more fight left in him. As he unclipped the last of his equipment, he turned to Silva who still ignored the General.
“Go about your duties, Sergeant. I’ll be in touch soon enough.”
The General hissed and sighed at the arrogance he perceived in Taylor. Mitch hated him with an even greater burning desire to strike him down. Silva turned and faced his men with a newfound confidence in defiance of the General.
“You heard the, Major. Form up!”
The MPs took up positions and led Taylor past the formed up platoon and away from the landing zone. Silva raised his arm in a salute that was quickly followed by the whole unit. Silva could feel the vehement hostility in the General without even looking at him. They had saluted a detained Major and not a General. Silva lowered his arm and turned his gaze to the General. He stared into his eyes as if asking for something from the man. The General sighed at the Sergeant’s lack of respect for his position.
“Under the command of the Joint European Defence Force, you are hereby ordered to lay down your arms and equipment. You are to be confined to your billets until further notice. Rations will be brought to you when needed, and you will not leave those billets under any circumstances. Any man or woman found to be in breach of these conditions, will find them following in your Major’s footsteps!”
The troops remained silent. Dupont knew that it was not out of respect for him. Finally, the Sergeant spoke up.
“Will that be all, Sir?”
Dupont coughed in surprise at the question. His face lit up in anger, but he knew there was nothing more he could do to the marines. Dupont nodded in agreement, turned and marched away to his vehicle, leaving the MPs to do their work.
“You heard the man. Lay down your weapons, and get some rest!”
It was an appealing thought but having to give up everything left a bitter taste among them. They could see trucks parked up nearby. Dupont was quite literally expecting them to remove their kit and hand it in, there and then. They began to strip off their weapons and armour and leave behind the exoskeleton suits which had done them such a good turn.
When Silva was done, he stood and waited for the last of them to lay down all that they had carried. One of the MPs stepped up to his side and spoke in a thick German accent.
“Your sidearm, Sergeant!”
Silva turned with an outraged expression.
“From my cold dead hands!” he snapped.
“You have your orders, Sergeant.”
“This pistol was a private purchase, as allowed by my rank.”
Silva spat on the floor beside the well-kept military policeman. He hated them in America as much as he did here, but at least his own people understood the law.
“This base is still US soil, is it not?” he asked.
The man nodded begrudgingly and could see the other marines becoming restless. He looked at the battle-hardened troops and sighed. Spineless bastard, thought Silva.
“Alright, NCOs may keep sidearms, but all other weapons, armour and associated issue equipment are to be removed!”
Silva smirked just a little. He enjoyed seeing how much it pained the MP to be told what’s what. He turned back to the platoon and barked his orders.
“Fall out and return to billets!”
It further exasperated the MP that the Sergeant was not marching the platoon across the base, but he was at his wits end. Silva had enjoyed torturing the man but now thought back to their losses both on and off the battlefield. Parker strode up to walk beside him.
“What do you think they are doing with the Major?” she asked.
She could guess pretty well as much as Silva, but could not help but ask.
“He’s in deep shit, no doubt. Schulz will want to make an example of him, and Dupont has lost face just as much. Nobody can doubt that the Major saved soldiers that should never have been left behind, but they will do everything they can do make him suffer.”
She sighed.
“What else could he have done? Left our people there to die?”
“Schulz works on numbers. He’s got dead and wounded back, and officers directly contravening his orders. As far as he is concerned, nothing good has come of this day.”
“Fucking asshole! If only I could get my hands on him.”
“You and me both.”
“What will become of us?”she asked.
“Schulz will put us on some shit duties until he realises he needs us. We’ll be alright.”
“And Taylor?”
He looked into her eyes and could see her worry.
“If anyone can wriggle out from this, it’s the Major.”
Four weeks had passed, and the Major had seen nobody but his guards. The dim-witted and obnoxious military police revelled in their power over a high-ranking officer. The fact that he was American made them enjoy it all the more. He resigned himself to little more than exercising in his cell and lying in a dream for the rest of it.
Schulz can’t leave me to rot forever. He hadn’t received any news from his guards. He knew that he hadn’t been moved, and so Ramstein had remained in human hands for all that time. It was some relief at least. But Taylor thought of his friends and his Company. What price were they paying for holding the line, and what crap had Schulz thrown them in to?
The more Taylor thought about his friends, the angrier he became that he was not able to be there for them. He tried his best to remain calm, but the sound of every vehicle and distant rumbling of artillery reminded him of them. Every night he was haunted by the hallowed eyes of Jones the last time he’d seen the Captain. He had long dreamt of getting his friend back, only to lose him again. They probably put him in a mad house, he thought.
Taylor’s calm snapped, and he leapt up from his bed. He rushed up to the bars of his cage and whaled on them.
“Get me the fuck out of here! Get me out! Get me out!”
Chandra sat at the bottom of a muddy trench on the south side of the base. The occasional artillery round screamed overhead, but the line had become oddly tranquil over the last day. She sat with a mug of tea, treasuring the moment. She leaned back and looked up into the bright blue sky where there was not a cloud in sight.
Looking into the warm sky, she could forget for just a few moments about the desolate landscape around her that had been ravaged by the war. Few trees stood that were not blackened and burnt. The roads had been smashed by artillery until the concrete and mud beside it mixed into almost uniformed rubble.
The defences of the base consisted of miles of trench works and bunkers. They were the only cover that would be erected in time. She could hear footsteps squelching towards her. The floorboards could only stave off the worst of the rain that rarely let up for more than a day or two. The footsteps were light. Gone were their Reitech suits.
They were reduced to the same frightened troopers that huddled underground and prayed to only tackle the enemy in vastly superior numbers. They were nothing compared to their enemy, man for man. Friday strode into view with a smile on his face. He rarely showed any dismay or sadness. Perhaps he hid it well, she thought.